


Am I Evil?

by MonPetitTresor



Series: The Fledgling [2]
Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: Betrayal, Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e06 I Believe The Children Are Our Future, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, No Jesse, Self-Discovery, accidental abuse, no cambion, only remade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case brings the brothers to Vegas where they encounter something the likes of which they've never really seen before. Allies are made and friendships are tested and the brothers have to decide on what truly makes a creature bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you that didn't read the short little prologue before this story, I'll put up my warnings a second tiem and my explanation for this series:
> 
> So my partner and I (spencerremylvr) got into a drunken argument and he challenged me to write a nephilim story kind of like his series, only how I think it should’ve been done, because apparently drunken-me had fantastic ideas about what should’ve been done with a nephilim Spencer. My brain went two directions. The other direction seemed to traumatize people, so I wrote out this version. Basically, it's all based off this question here:
> 
> “What if instead of finding Jesse, the young Cambion, a case took them to Vegas where they found a nephilim—adult Spencer with barely growing powers, visiting his mother?”
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter and the next are based off of “I Believe the Children Are Our Future” and, as such, I’m borrowing bits of dialogue from it just because I can. Not all of it, but you’ll recognize good chunks here and there. I hope that doesn’t bother anyone!

“Dude, this is gonna be great.”

Sam Winchester rolled his eyes at his brother’s enthusiasm and turned towards the window to hide his smile. He and Dean were currently on their way to a case that Bobby had sent them on—one that was taking them to Las Vegas, Nevada. The fact that Bobby had chosen to send _them_ of all the hunters out there to a place like _Vegas_ clued Sam in that the case was important, or there had to be no one else available. Because both Sam and Bobby had learned a long time ago that setting Dean loose in a town like Vegas was just asking for trouble. There was a reason the brothers only went there once a year.

He couldn’t help but remind his brother, “You do remember we’re going here for a case, right?”

The grin that Dean shot his way loosened some of the knot in Sam’s stomach and lightened the weight on his shoulders just the slightest bit. “Course I do, Sammy! That don’t mean we can’t have a little bit of fun.”

This was the most that Sam had seen his brother smile in a long, long time. Not that there’d really been anything to smile about lately. The two had only recently joined back together after their break apart and, though they’d ironed out some things on their last case, that didn’t mean stuff was perfect between them. There were a lot of things that were still between them. Sam knew that his brother was still angry with him. Could he blame him? Letting the devil free wasn’t exactly something that was easy to forgive. But they’d had their time apart and they’d both learned, they were better off together. Not just that, but their last case had showed them just how things between them needed to change.

Acknowledging where they’d done wrong didn’t instantly make things better. It gave them a place to start from, though.

Unable to resist, the little brother inside of Sam had him slanting a look over at Dean and smirking ever so slightly. “Hopefully we don’t run into any celebrities while we’re out there.” It was a subtle dig to their last case, when the leshii that they’d gone after had taken the form of Paris Hilton—and beat the crap out of Dean.

He should’ve known better. Dean didn’t even blink before firing back “No kidding, dude. I don’t think you could take getting beat up by another guy in a diaper.”

Sam scowled and Dean gave a grin that was pure big-brother-pride at having scored one over his little brother. Satisfied with that, he brought their talk back around to the case. “So, run this by me again.”

Only for a second did Sam hesitate. Then he shook his head and turned himself in his seat so he could better look at his brother as he spoke. “Bobby said there’s a lot of weird stuff happening around here lately. Sick people mysteriously getting better, a rush of jackpot winners at the casinos. There are even reports of people waking up in the hospital suddenly 'healed'.”

“Those sounds like _good_ things.” Dean pointed out.

“Things like this don’t just happen, Dean. There’s something going on here.”

“Yeah, sure, of course there is. But since we do we hunt down the good stuff? I mean, healings, people living when they should’ve died—all that falls in the ‘good’ column in my books. Why are we hunting it down?”

Sam couldn't quite keep in the slightly derisive sound that he made. Rolling his eyes, he leaned back against the seat and arched his eyebrows at his brother. “Since when has anything this good come without a price tag? Ever?”

“True.” Dean conceded. He tapped his fingers against the wheel for a moment. “So, what, we’re thinking crossroads demon?”

It was the most logical thing. Sam couldn't think of anything else offhand that would be able to cause so much goodwill in one area like this. A demon going around making deals, however, _did_. “Seems our best bet.”

“You do realize we can't save them from their deals, right?” The older Winchester snuck a look over at him, expression serious.

Sam winced. Yeah, he knew they couldn't save them. They'd learned that lesson the hard way. There was no way out of demon deals. That wasn't something he was likely to ever forget. “I know. But we can stop them before they make anymore.” Besides which, there was a part of Sam that could admit that his brother had been right on their last case. Dean had said he’d wanted to take that last case, the one with the leshii, because he and Sam had a lot of work they needed to do to be able to start fixing their relationship and working as a team again. Putting on the training wheels, so to speak. At the time Sam had been a little offended by the idea. Now, after the way they’d worked together and the things they’d put out there in the open between them, maybe he was right.

He watched his brother tapping along to the music and smiling a little to himself, despite what they were going to do, and Sam couldn’t help his own small smile. This case might be good for them.

* * *

One quick stop at the motel to drop off their things and change into their FBI suits and the two were heading out to go to the hospital that had recently become the home of so many miracles. In his research for this case, Sam had found three miraculous healings all centered around this one hospital. A twenty two year old woman who’d been in a coma for the past three months who’d suddenly woken up, without any troubles whatsoever. An eight year old boy whose leukemia hadn’t just gone into remission—it was simply _gone_. And last, a thirty four year old woman whose brain tumor seemed to be shrinking more and more with each passing day, though no doctor could explain the why or how of it.

Coma girl was gone, already back home with her family, so Sam and Dean split to talk to the remaining two. Dean took the little boy, Marshall Dryfus, while Sam went to speak with the tumor lady, Michelle Hughes.

The woman was sitting in her bed when Sam was escorted in. She was smiling brightly at him and the doctor who was leading him in here, green eyes warm inside a heart shaped face. Brown hair had been pulled back and braided down to dangle over one shoulder. If it hadn’t been for the hospital gown she wore and the equipment she was hooked up to, she would’ve looked the picture of good health.

“Michelle.” The doctor smiled at her as he moved up to her bed, immediately going to check her chart just like all doctors did when entering their patient’s room. At the same time, he brought Sam forward so that they were right up by her bedside. “This here is FBI Agent Plant. He’s hoping to speak with you if you’re feeling up to it.”

Sam pulled his badge out to show it to the woman, who was watching him with surprise. “Speak with me? About what?”

There was always that immediate worry in civilians when they were faced with an officer of some kind. Sam had seen it plenty of times before and, really, he understood. The instinctive response, no matter who you were, was to wonder what you’d done wrong. Usually after that came the worry that someone you loved had done something wrong, or been involved in something, or were hurt. It was just the normal cycle of fears that went through a person when they were unexpectedly faced with law enforcement. Sam put on his best smile and tried to reassure her with the only thing he’d been able to concoct on his way up here that might explain his presence. “I know it might seem strange, ma’am, but I just need to ask you a few questions, that’s all. We’ve had some reports of someone going around offering a miracle cure-all to people that, uh, that seems to work great only to end up going very bad. Deadly, even.”

Michelle looked stunned by his question. Her eyes went a little wide and her mouth dropped open ever so slightly in what Sam could see was honest surprise. “That’s horrible!”

“It is. We’re just looking to catch this man, so maybe, if you don’t mind, I could ask you a few questions? Just to see if you’ve come into contact with this man at all during your stay here.”

“Of course, of course. Please,” She gestured with one hand towards the chair by her bed. “I don’t remember seeing anyone like that, but I’ll answer any questions that you have.”

The doctor left them as Sam took the seat that Michelle had offered him. He settled himself down into his chair and pulled out the little notebook he kept inside his jacket pocket. “So, you’re saying you haven’t seen or spoken with anyone here who might’ve offered you some kind of miracle cure?”

The woman shook her head. A hint of a wry smile ghosted over her lips. “I haven’t spoken with anyone who offered me any kind of cure at all, real or special.” One of her hands came up and she tapped at the side of her hair. “Brain tumor, inoperable. I wasn’t here to get better, Agent Plant. The doctors don’t put it bluntly but I knew the truth. I was here to die. They gave me no more than two weeks, tops. Now? Now, they’re saying they could operate this weekend to take the rest out, but they might not even have to. It’s still shrinking all on its own.”

“And you didn’t participate in some, experimental treatment or something like that?” Sam probed.

“Nope.” Michelle’s smile grew again and warmed into something that held just a hint of awe in it. It took years off her, making her face both younger and prettier, chasing away the lines that stress had left behind and giving Sam a glimpse of the woman she’d probably been before this disease had ruined her life—the woman it sounded like she was going to get the chance to be again.

Sam hadn’t really expected to talk with these people and have them come right out and admit that they’d made some sort of demon deal. Still, he’d expected to see something in them, some signs of them lying to cover it up, or a general shiftiness when questioned about this. Instead, Michelle was sitting there calm and happy as can be, and the young hunter had the feeling that it was all honest. But if she hadn’t made a deal—then what? “What do you think’s responsible for your recovery, Ms. Hughes?”

The smile she wore grew wider and brighter. “I believe God answered my prayers.”

“God?” Sam’s eyebrows went up with surprise. God?

“Yes. I’ve prayed and I’ve prayed for help and I think He finally heard me and helped me. It’s the only explanation for such a miracle. I believe God healed me.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later Sam was still shaking his head as he walked back into the motel room. His brother followed behind him, carrying the bags of food they’d picked up on their way back here. “So, she seriously thought that _God_ was responsible for her healing?” Dean said derisively as he came into the room. He kicked the door shut behind him and went over to the small wooden table, dropping the bags of food down. “Wow. If only she knew the truth, huh? God doesn’t give a shit about her or anyone else in that hospital.”

Meeting angels had brought a lot of questions into Sam’s life and challenged quite a bit of his faith. However, he still carried enough in him to wince at Dean’s words. To try and cover it up, he reached up to tug at the knot of his tie. The damn thing felt like it was choking him. “The point is, it doesn’t really seem like she made any kind of deal at all. I pushed at it from all angles, Dean, and I got nothing.”

The two hunters shed their jackets and settled down opposite one another at the table. Sam brought his laptop with him and set it to the side so he could use it to research in a bit. For the moment, he pulled out the chicken wrap from the bag in front of him and started to unwrap it. Dean had grabbed his own burgers and was already digging in to one of them. With his typical show of _fantastic_ manners, he spoke around the burger in his mouth, smirking when he saw Sam’s disgusted look. “Yeah. I talked to the kid and his Mom both and didn’t get any demon-y feel off them, either. An there’s no Dad in the picture to have made a deal.”

“It doesn’t seem like anyone made any sort of deal.” Sam said.

“Well what else could bring all this kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know.” And that was the kicker. Sam had no idea. He’d been trying to think about it and so far he wasn’t really coming up with all that much. “Nothing I know of would _want_ to spread goodwill. Unless…”

Dean arched an eyebrow at him when he stopped. “Unless what?”

For a brief second, Sam hesitated. This wouldn’t go over all that well, he knew. And it really was farfetched. But, he had to throw it out there. “Maybe it’s an angel.” They were the only things he knew of that could heal like this and the only things that _might_ want to help out a group of humans. Not likely, he knew, but possible.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dude, you know as well as I do that angels don’t give a crap about stuff like this.”

“I know, I know. But what else is going to go around doing miraculous healings like this?”

Neither one of them had an answer for that.

* * *

They didn’t get any kind of break in the case until the next morning. Sam was set up once more at the table with his laptop open in front of him, drinking some of the motel’s crappy complimentary coffee while he waited for his brother to get back with breakfast. He’d just finished his cup when he came across a story that caught his interest. It was enough to have him sitting forward to read quickly through the article he found, plus the other articles that he found from there. “Huh.” He muttered to himself at the same time that the door to their room opened.

Dean took one look at him and immediately asked “Find something?”

“I don’t know.” Sam murmured. Ignoring his brother, who was coming in and setting down their breakfast, he read through the rest of the story before he sat back in his seat, eyebrows raised. Well. This was just getting more and more odd. “So, get this. Apparently last night there was a car wreck. Three car pileup, one car almost completely totaled.”

“Okay. Crappy, but, it happens.” Dean said. He had slid down into the same seat he’d had last night while they’d eaten their dinner. The scene was a familiar one between them; seated at a motel table sharing a meal together, a laptop open between them and a case their topic of conversation. They’d done this in plenty of places throughout their lives. There was a hint of comfort to be found in that.

Lifting an eyebrow, the younger Winchester looked up from his laptop to meet Dean’s gaze. “Every single person walked away without a scratch. _Including_ the woman and three kids in the squashed car.”

Surprise lit up Dean’s face. “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“Well that definitely rules out crossroads. There’s no time to make a deal in a situation like that.” Sighing, Dean shook his head and pulled out the breakfast sandwiches he’d gotten, passing two over to Sam. “Well, I’ll see your crazy and raise you some more. Down at the McDonalds down the road I heard a couple people talking about anther lady who won at the casino last night. Apparently she bet like, ten bucks and walked away with a couple hundred thousand. _And_ I heard some kid outside talking to each other about a fire a few days ago that apparently this whole family managed to get out of without a single burn between them.”

It only took a little work on the laptop for Sam to find those stories. Both of them were true—he found the fire story easily enough on the local news site, and on another site he found a news story about the woman who had bet her last ten dollars, apparently all she had, in the hopes of turning it into enough money to support her family for the month and she’d managed to walk away with four hundred grand by the time the night was done.

Sam went over to his bag and pulled out the local map that he’d picked up yesterday. He’d already marked off the incidents they’d discovered yesterday. Adding in the recent ones and it was making an interesting picture. Sam made another mark on the map and then stood back. “Huh. Look at this.”

Dean moved up beside him and leaned over the map that Sam had spread out on the bed, watching as Sam pointed out each spot he’d marked. “This is the hospital where all those people were magically ‘healed’. Over here is the car wreck…”

“That everyone walked away from.”

“Right. And these are the places where all those little ‘wishes’ keep coming true. All of it’s located inside this two-mile radius.”

Straightening up, Dean cocked his head at the pattern that Sam had put there. “So, we got a blast zone of weird, and inside, miracles come true?”

“Looks like.” Sam agreed.

Dean tapped the space in the middle of it. “And what's the A-bomb at its center?”

“A hospital. Bennington Sanitarium.”

The two brothers shared a look and Dean flashed him a grin. “Then I guess it’s time to go visit the funny farm.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this done a bit early. Enjoy!

Getting into a sanitarium isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. There were only a few ways that either Winchester could think of, and their best bet seemed to be continuing to use the FBI personas that they'd been using so far. As agents they figured they should be able to get more information than they would as anything else. Besides which, cases always went smoother if they used the same alias everywhere. It kept them from messy situations where their two covers ended up colliding and were completely blown.

So the boys put on their suits once more and Sam, with a bit of help from Bobby, managed to get them in to talk with one of the doctors at the sanitarium.

“How the hell did you two manage it?” Dean asked as he climbed out of the car.

Sam straightened up and shut his door behind him. “Bobby called in, acting as our Unit Chief to request a visit. He said it was pretty easy after that.”

“That gets us in to talk to the doc. It doesn’t get us a chance to look around the place or check out any of the patients.”

“One step at a time.” Sam murmured. He adjusted his jacket and looked up at the building in front of him, wondering what they were going to find in there. What on earth could be in there that would have that kind of power? More to the point, _why_? Why do all this? It didn’t make sense. If it wasn’t a crossroads demon, what out there would do things like this—and what kind of price tag would be tacked on with all these little miracles? Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused back on his brother. “This was our only real way in. This place is private and well maintained, Dean. The people who stay here pay for more than just care; they pay for security, too.” It was actually a little impressive just how secure the place was.

Together, the brothers made their way up to the front doors. It was easy to slip into that FBI persona. When Sam had first gone back on the road with Dean again it had felt so strange to try it. He’d always felt like a kid trying to play dress up. But now? Now, he had enough experience under his belt to be confident, and that confidence seemed to be key. It was amazing how much people accepted that you belonged somewhere if you simply acted like you did.

Once they got inside they had to spend a few minutes at the front desk verifying that they were who they said they were. Only when she was sure did the woman let them inside, calling over a nurse to have her escort them to a Doctor Ryan Louis.

They found the doctor in what looked to be a dayroom. He was an elderly man, with grey hair, glasses, and a kind smile. Sam watched him carefully while he wrapped up whatever he was saying with a patient nearby. When he saw them, he nodded and made a small gesture indicating they way. Sam and Dean moved to the side of the room and stood out of the way to wait for him. It gave them a moment or two to look around at things. Dean turned towards Sam just a little while looking over the dayroom. “This is gonna be a nightmare. How are we supposed to look around? Hell, what are we even looking for?”

That was a good question. They had no idea really what it was they were actually looking for. “I don’t know.” Sam murmured. “There’s gotta be something, though. We’ve worked with less.”

“Yeah, and that’s so much fun.” Dean grumbled.

Any reply Sam might’ve come up with was cut off as he saw the doctor moving towards them. Smoothing out his expression, Sam straightened up just the slightest bit until he once more had that smooth, in control look. His smile was polite and friendly as he took a step forward and held out his hand to the doctor. “Dr. Louis?”

“I am.” Dr. Louis confirmed. He shook Sam’s hand first and then Dean’s. “Thank you for your patience, Agents…”

“Page, and this is my partner Plant.” Dean introduced them.

“We appreciate you meeting with us, Dr. Louis.” Sam said. “Especially on such short notice.

The doctor nodded his head at them and folded his hands in front of him. “Of course. Your supervisor mentioned that some of my patients might be in danger.”

Sam kept quiet and watched as Dean spun the same tale that they’d been telling everyone about someone who was selling miracle cures. “We understand that speaking with your patients is out of the question.” Dean said, his charming smile out full force. “We were just hoping we could maybe speak with your employees, see if maybe they know anything.”

“I’m sure I can arrange for them to come back to a room and speak privately with you.” Dr. Louis said slowly, looking just a little worried. Was that a worry that one of his employees had done something, or worry over them wanting to speak with anyone at all? It was something worth watching.

This time it was Sam who smiled. “That sounds perfect, Dr. Louis. While my partner does that, I’d like to take a look around.”

That had Dr. Louis looking even more worried than before. This time Sam understood, though. Considering where they were and some of the conditions that the patients here suffered from, it was no wonder that the man would be worried about letting an FBI agent wander through here. Not only would he not want to risk some stranger upsetting a patient, he most likely didn’t want to risk a patient upsetting the FBI. Often paranoid delusions could involve the government in some form or another. Just having them in the dayroom here had to run the risk of making a patient or two slightly nervous. Sam braced himself, prepared to try and talk his way through this just like he had so many situations before, when suddenly there was another voice coming from off to the side. “Dr. Louis, is there a problem over here?”

The doctor looked up and the expression that crossed his face was what Sam would call relieved. “Dr. Reid!”

Sam and Dean both turned to look up at the newcomer who was joining them. He didn’t really look like much at first glance. Tall and skinny, with shaggy hair that barely hid a face that was gradually leaving behind thin and flirting with _gaunt_ , the guy gave off the image of harmless. Even his clothes added to that; the slacks, the button up white shirt and skinny tie, and the brown professor’s jacket with the patches on the elbows like what Sam had seen some of the older professors wear back at Stanford. All of that gave off a certain image that probably made most people dismiss him outright. Sam might’ve, too, if he hadn’t caught sight of his eyes.

Eyes gave away a lot about a person. This kid’s eyes—and he had to be a kid, couldn’t be any older than his early twenties—spoke of someone who had seen and done a whole lot more than most. The minute those eyes landed on them, Sam saw them widen briefly with something that looked like recognition before they narrowed and sharpened.

Sam shot his brother a quick look and noticed that Dean had seen the same thing. _Shit_.

The doctor seemed to have missed most of what had gone on around him. He opened up their circle a little and easily let this Dr. Reid step up beside him. “Dr. Reid, these are Agents Page and Plant.”

“Doctor, huh? You seem a little young to be working here.” Dean said, flashing a grin that was probably meant to be charming. Sam wanted to roll his eyes at him. Yeah, great way to keep out of trouble with this guy who apparently _recognized them_. Mock him for how young he looks.

Dr. Reid didn’t seem bothered by it, though. “I don’t work here. I’m here visiting a patient.” Without giving Sam or Dean a chance to say anything else, or to even figure out how the hell they were going to get out of this, the kid turned to the doctor beside him and his expression softened into a friendly sort of look that nicely hid the edginess and caution Sam could still see in his eyes. “Dr. Louis, why don’t you go ahead and go back to work? I haven’t worked with them personally, but I know who they are. I’ll find out what’s going on and take care of it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. And we’ll continue our own conversation later.”

Dr. Reid smiled at him. “Absolutely.” That smile faded away as he turned back towards Sam and Dean. That caution was back, as well as something else that Sam couldn’t quite recognize. “Agents. Why don’t we step outside? This sounds like it might be a conversation we want to keep as private as possible. There’s no need to upset the patients here.”

“Of course.” Dean said easily. Still, he and Sam exchanged another look as the doctor gestured for them to go forward.

They stayed quiet the whole way out of the building. Dr. Reid seemed calm as could be as he followed them outside and down the driveway. He acted perfectly content to follow them. None of the three men said a word until they were almost to the parking lot. Neither Sam nor Dean had been willing to break the silence and Dr. Reid had apparently not wanted to speak so close to the sanitarium. It looked like he wanted just as much privacy as them for this. That was both good and bad. Sam exchanged another look with Dean and his brother gave a small, almost miniscule nod. They were going to have to play this very, very carefully.

The two were so prepared for trouble, they were completely stunned when they stopped by their car and turned to look at their shadow and the young doctor immediately told them “I know who you are.” He flushed right after he said it, like he hadn’t quite meant to blurt the words out so bluntly. But Sam watched him draw himself up straight and square his shoulders back and push on. “I’m not here to stop you and I’m not here to take over whatever hunt you’re on. But someone very important to me is a patient in there and if she’s at risk from something, I want to know.”

Wait a second—this kid knew about hunting?

Dean seemed to be having the same thought. “You know about hunting?”

“Are you a hunter, too?” Sam asked.

The kid huffed out a breath that sounded both embarrassed and amused. “Me?” He shook his head, some of his shaggy hair getting in his face as he did. One long-fingered hand came up to brush it back behind his ear again in a gesture that looked just a bit nervous. “No, I’m not a hunter, not in the sense that you are. I’m simply someone who knows a little something about it.”

“And how do you know who we are?” Dean demanded.

With one hand, the kid reached down into the messenger bag he wore and pulled out something that Sam recognized almost immediately. He had one exactly like it in his pocket. Only, as the kid opened it and Sam looked closely, he could see with stunned disbelief that these credentials were real. “SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. I work at the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI. You hunt monsters for a living – so do I. Mine are simply of the human variety.” He folded his credentials up and slipped them back into his bag. “Most agents know who the Winchesters are. My boss helped consult on the profile when Henriksen asked for one.”

“ _You’re_ an agent?” The absolutely stunned tone to Dean’s words had the kid’s expression tightening in what Sam thought might be a grimace, only it was covered up too quickly, too smoothly, to really be able to tell. He looked calm and composed as he nodded at them. “I am. And you two are hunters—two of the best, if stories are to be believed. You’ve also managed to thus far avoid answering my question. What are you here hunting?”

The mulish look that hardened Dean’s features was a familiar one. Sam knew his brother wasn’t going to give this kid anything, or at least try to just brush him off. If he had family in there, though, he had a right to know, and he might even be able to help them. “Dean.” Sam said lowly, catching hold of his brother’s arm and pulling him back just the slightest bit. He looked up at Spencer and then back down to Dean’s stormy eyes. “Cool it. He might be able to help us. We can’t wander around in there, but if he’s as well-known as he looked, _he_ can. We can’t afford to turn down help on this.”

It was easy to see when Dean realized he was right. It was also easy to see just how little he liked it. Still, they couldn’t ignore a resource like this, and this wasn’t just some civilian they were bringing in. This Spencer kid seemed to know about the supernatural. That meant he _might_ recognize things others didn’t. It all depended on how much he actually knew.

“Fine.” Dean growled out.

The two brothers moved to lean against the impala. Sam began the explanation, telling Spencer of the cases that had brought them to town and the things that they’d come across since their arrival. They took turns explaining what they’d found. It was as Dean described talking to the boy in the hospital that Sam saw the first hint of something cross Spencer's features. He wasn’t sure what, though. It was carefully covered up. But, Sam had seen it.

It flashed there again when they talked about the things they’d found this morning. “We charted all of these things on a map.” Sam said, carefully watching Spencer's face. There was something going on here. He _knew_ something. “All of these incidents seem to be within a two mile radius of _here_.”

“Have you noticed anything strange going on here?” Dean asked. “Anything odd or weird. Something you can’t explain.”

Spencer looked right at them, and it was only because Sam was such a practiced liar that he recognized as the skill was being put to use against him. “I haven’t seen anything like that.” Spencer looked from one brother to the other and furrowed his eyebrows a little with a slightly confused expression. “Are you sure it’s centered around here specifically? Geographical profiling can be affected by multiple different variables.”

Disbelief showed clearly on Dean’s face. “You’re telling us you haven’t seen anything?”

“I haven’t, I’m sorry.”

Something in the back of Sam’s mind was prickling; a sense he’d developed over the years in hunting that told him to tread very carefully here, and to look a little closer. “Maybe it happened before you were here. Did you just arrive in town this morning, by chance?” His question was a probing one and he could see that Spencer recognized it.

“I’ve been busy visiting my mother.” Spencer said, spreading his hands a little in an innocent pose, even as he took a half step back. His eyes had darkened some and they were showing the nerves he was so expertly keeping off the rest of his body. “There’s a chance I simply missed things around me. I don’t often get to see her.”

Dean pushed off the car and straightened himself up. “Now who’s the one avoiding answering the question?”

Panic flashed there and gone again in Spencer's eyes. Sam looked at him and he knew—Spencer was connected to all this. How, he wasn’t sure, but that panic made it clear that he was. It also made it clear that the doctor was about to bolt on them. Sam pushed off the car and moved to stand beside his brother, lifting his hands in a gesture he’d meant to show peace. Whatever was going on here it didn’t feel threatening to him. Spencer didn’t seem like a threat.

However, Spencer must’ve felt that _Sam_ was a threat. The minute his hands went up, everything went to hell.

Without any warning, Sam went flying backwards, slamming into the trunk of the impala and sliding across it to land on the ground on the other side. He hit hard, his shoulder screaming out a protest when it connected with the solid ground. He didn’t let himself stop to feel it. Grunting and cradling his arm close, he used his other arm to shove himself up off the ground. Before he got upright he heard another grunt and what sounded like a solid blow against the impala and it only made him move faster. _Dean_!

It wasn’t Dean who was on the ground when Sam pushed up, though. He found his brother standing over the limp form of Dr. Spencer Reid. His brother met his gaze across the back of the car and that look clearly asked _Are you okay?_ When Sam nodded, Dean nodded back. “C’mon, Sammy, help me get him in the car. We need to get outta here before someone comes out and sees this.”

“We can’t just kidnap a federal agent, Dean!” Sam hissed. Still, he hurried around the car and helped to scoop up the doctor’s slender body. Dean got the back door open and they hurried to get him inside. “Bitch later.” Dean growled out, slamming the door and turning to hurry around to the driver’s seat. “Right now I wanna get him somewhere secure before he wakes back up. Then I think it might be time to call in some backup.”

A minute later the impala was speeding out of the parking lot.

* * *

It didn’t take them long to find an empty warehouse. Sam speculated to himself that it was kind of ridiculous how easy these always were to find in cities. He wasn’t going to question it, though. Not when they needed to make use of them for once instead of the bad guys. They found a large, empty one and dragged the still unconscious doctor out into the middle of it. Sam looked at him as he set him down and was worried at how long he’d been out so far. “How hard did you hit him?”

“He’ll be fine.” Dean insisted. He was busy quickly drawing up a devil’s trap for them. They had no idea what they were up against here and so they weren’t going to take any chances. As soon as the devil’s trap was done, they put him in the middle and then worked on putting more protection around it in the hopes that _something_ would hold.

When Dean brought over their jar of holy oil, Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Defensive, Dean looked down at the oil and then back up at him. “I’m not taking any chances. Just cause I believe angels are too big of douches to actually _help_ people doesn’t mean I’m gonna chance going up against something that could be one without the right protection.”

“You’re getting smart in your old age.” Sam teased.

“Bite me, college boy.”

He’d just finished laying down the last of the oil in a circle around all their other protective sigils, outside of them so as not to ruin them, when a soft rustle in the air announced the arrival of the one they’d been waiting for. The brothers had called Castiel on their way over here only to have the angel’s phone go to voicemail. Dean had left him a message in the hopes that he’d get back to them soon. This was, thankfully, sooner than they’d anticipated.

Castiel landed near Dean as he almost always did. At least he didn’t land pressed right up against him. Though, Sam wouldn’t put it past him. The thought was almost enough to make Sam snicker to himself. Almost. He lost any desire to laugh when he watched Castiel turn towards their unconscious guest and his whole body snapped taunt in a display of emotion the angel didn’t typically show. He said one single word that most definitely wasn’t in English. Beside him, Dean straightened up and watched his angel’s face carefully. “Cas?”

“It is lucky you found him.” Castiel told them.

Dean let out a low laugh that didn’t hold any real humor to it. “Trust me, that’s pretty much what it was. Luck. He’s got something to do with our case, though, and he’s got powers. Do you know what he is, Cas?”

As Sam moved closer to join them, he saw a look on Castiel’s face that he hadn’t ever expected to see there; disgust. It was the same sort of look the other angels gave to Sam. The one they wore when they called him the abomination. “He is a nephilim.” Castiel said in that low, gravelly voice of his. For once the seriousness of his voice suited the conversation. Sam couldn’t believe what he was saying. A nephilim? This scrawny FBI agent in front of them was a _nephilim_?

“A nephilim?” Sam couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

Castiel nodded. “Yes. The offspring of the sons of God and the daughters of Men. Half angel, half human, and immensely more powerful than either. We are very lucky you found and subdued him. You were even more lucky that you were not destroyed. Nephilim were, unstable, and very powerful. I’m not sure if even the holy oil you’ve laid down will be enough to hold him.”

“Well that’s just great.” Dean said. He groaned and glared at the angel. “Way to be reassuring, man.”

“You wish me to lie?” Castiel asked, confusion on his face.

“No. Just…” Dean sighed deeply. “How is it that you guys didn’t know about him before this?”

“His powers. They keep him hidden. Until I arrived, I couldn’t even sense him.”

“So, what do we do now?” Sam asked. They had to figure out something before Spencer woke up. They needed to be prepared. Apparently, he was powerful. Far more powerful than anything else they’d gone up against. They needed to be ready and prepared.

He’d hoped that Castiel might have a suggestion for some sort of plan. Really, he should’ve remembered just who it was they were dealing with here and how the angels viewed not only the world, but how history said they viewed nephilim. It stunned Sam completely when Castiel looked at the unconscious man—nephilim—and simply stated “We kill him.”

“What?” Sam and Dean exclaimed at the same time.

Castiel didn’t even flinch at their shouts. “The nephilim were destroyed for a reason. They became dangerous—corrupt. They coveted angels for what they did not have and that envy became their downfall.”

“What they didn’t have?” Dean asked.

“Nephilim are only part angel. That means that, while their powers are strong, there are some things they are inherently missing. They do not grow wings such as we do, nor do they have the ability to exist outside their vessel. Their soul ties them to it. They sought the freedom of Heaven and envied us for having it. That envy corrupted them until our Father ordered their destruction.”

He couldn’t believe it. Just because of what the nephilim of the past had done, they were going to condemn this guy to death? “We’re not just gonna kill some guy because you think he _might_ be dangerous!” Sam said furiously. “He hasn’t even done anything wrong. Everything around here has all been good things happening. I’m not going to kill someone because they did a bunch of good.”

Temper and grace both snapped into Castiel’s eyes in a display of threat and power. “You cannot even begin to understand what you have here. He would be dangerous on his own, in any other time. With Lucifer risen? What happens if he finds this boy and takes him? Lucifer would twist him to his purposes and, with him at his side, he could destroy the earth without ever even needing to take another vessel.”

That had Dean turning to stare down at the kid on the ground. “You’re trying to tell me that kid has more power than freaking _Lucifer_?” The way he said it showed just how incredulous he found that.

“Our graces are made stronger by souls.” Castiel explained to them, with the air of someone who was frustrated with having to explain what he found to be obvious. “It’s part of why we don’t want Michael or Lucifer in their true vessels. Not only are your bodies made to house them, your souls are made for it as well. They would draw power from you. This thing here, it has both grace and soul, one constantly feeding the other, the two so in tune there is no separation. The kind of power that grants him is beyond your comprehension. The devastation he could cause, not just on earth but in Heaven, is immense. We cannot allow that to happen.”

“We're the good guys.” Sam felt compelled to remind them. “We, we don't just kill people without real reason!”

“A year ago, you would have done whatever it took to win this war.” Castiel said to him. The words were meant to be a slap and Sam had to fight not to reel back from them. He held his ground and met Castiel’s gaze with all the firmness he could muster up. “Things change.” He told him.

Their little standoff was cut short by Dean slipping to stand between the two of them with his hands held out in either direction. “All right, boys, break it up.” He firmly told them. Then he turned to look at Castiel, dropping his hands back down. “Sam’s right, Cas. This kid hasn’t done anything that’s actually bad. Maybe the nephilim in the past were bad or corrupt, but this kid hasn’t shown anything like that. He didn’t look angry when we confronted him. He looked _terrified_.”

It was true. Spencer hadn’t looked angry at all. And when he’d gone outside with them and first confronted them about why they were there, he’d seemed honestly worried and curious about what they might be hunting. Like he really hadn’t known. Finding out that the thing they were hunting was _him_ had scared him. “If he is a nephilim…” Sam said slowly, tilting his head to look over at the kid. “I think, I think he might be kind of new to it. I don’t think he knew what he was doing.”

“Nephilim have their powers from the moment they are born.” Castiel informed them.

“I don’t know, Cas. I think Sam’s right. This, it doesn’t feel like something planned. All these things feel random.” Dean said. “At the least, if he’s not new then he’s not in control. I don’t think any of these things were done on purpose.”

Their conversation was cut off when a low groan filled the air. Three sets of eyes locked on the suddenly shifting man on the floor. Their guest was awake.

Dean hesitated only briefly before pulling his lighter from his pocket. He flicked it on and squatted down to ignite the circle.

It was time to get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Love it? Hate it? Think the whole thing is boring as hell? Let me know!!


	3. Chapter 3

The world felt hazy as Spencer slowly came back to consciousness. He didn’t come back with a gasp and a jerk as he had before. How sad was it that he recognized the pain that came from a blow to the head and knew that he’d been knocked out even before he was conscious enough to remember _why_. Experience and training had him discreetly flexing his wrists and ankles to test for any sort of binding. He found none. There was a strange crackling sound nearby, though. When he let his eyes open to slits, he found out why.

Fire.

He was surrounded by _fire_!

Spencer fought back the instinctive panic. What had happened here? How the hell had he ended up here? His brain was slowly waking up and the earlier events were seeping back in. The last thing he remembered was Dean Winchester’s hand in his hair, slamming his forehead into the trunk of their car, and then the whole world had exploded in pain before turning dark.

He groaned against as his head reminded him of that pain. His newfound sense of empathy seemed to be as frazzled as his head and he only felt glimpses of emotions. Fear, worry, anger, disgust, determination, curiosity. All of it was mixing and jumbling together in a way that made his aching head throb even more. Spencer had been slowly practicing how to try and shield himself. What pathetic shields he’d managed so far he grabbed hold of now and yanked tightly into place.

Only when he felt the emotions around him dull down to something he could ignore did he finally dare to open his eyes the rest of the way and actually try to move. What he found waiting for him was almost enough to make him wish he was still unconscious.

He’d been moved while he was knocked out. Instead of the parking lot outside of Bennington, he was now in what looked to be a huge, empty warehouse. There was a devil’s trap on the ground underneath him, as well as other protective sigils, and a circle of fire around all of that. Though fire had never really been a fear of his before, he found himself drawing back from it now, trying to keep himself in the very center of the circle so there was no chance of it touching him. The light that Spencer had always carried inside of him seemed to recoil from that fire as well. It pulled in tight and small inside of him in a way he hadn’t ever felt it do before.

When he looked up beyond the fire, he got another shock.

The Winchester brothers were standing on the other side of the fire, but that wasn’t what had shocked Spencer. What stunned him, what had him sucking in a breath and staring with wide eyes, was the man with them. A tall, slender man with bright blue eyes, jet black hair, and the biggest set of wings Spencer had ever seen rising up from his back. _Wings_! Spencer's heart thudded in his chest and he swore his whole body went still. The wings were huge and black as the night sky. As they lifted up high and wide in a display that reminded Spencer forcibly of an animal displaying dominance, he swore he caught flashes of silver in the feathers, like stars peeking through the sky.

Dean stepped forward and a cry tried to rise up in Spencer's throat when he saw the older Winchester was about to step into part of the wing. Instead of hitting it, though, he went _through it_. Jesus! Couldn’t they see them? Was he…was he seeing things now? Things that weren’t there? Or was this like the demons that he saw? No one else seemed to be able to see the true forms inside of the bodies they were possessing. Was that something like this? Spencer's brain almost stalled when it came to him what that could mean. If he saw the true form inside of someone, that would mean that what he saw here was a being possessing a person, and the only thing that came to mind….no. _No_.

His little silent panic attack might’ve gone on for a while if Dean hadn’t finally broken the silence had that had fallen around them. “We’ve got a few questions for you, Doc.”

Spencer had to work to build up enough spit to wet his dry mouth before he could speak. “Do you often put people in a flaming circle before questioning them?” For all the bravado in his words, he knew his voice gave away his fear, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to take his eyes off the winged man standing between the Winchesters.

“Only the angelic ones.” Dean shot back.

Angelic ones? Spencer knew his eyes had gone wide and he couldn’t quite bring himself to care enough to stop it. All of his training was failing him at that moment. His eyes drifted over the other man’s wings again. Angels. _Angels are real._ He couldn’t…no…it didn’t seem possible. Angels couldn’t be real! _Why not_? His brain countered. _Demons are real. Why can’t angels be real, too?_

Sam’s voice was a lot gentler than his brothers when he interrupted Spencer's thoughts. “You, didn’t know about angels?” He seemed almost hesitant in his question.

A shudder ran down Spencer's body when the man—angel, he has to be an angel—moved just slightly and his wings somehow became even more threatening. How the hell were _wings_ threatening? He didn’t understand it, yet he couldn’t deny what he felt or the way his light shivered inside of him at the display the angel was putting on. “Yesterday, I would’ve said they weren’t real. I’m a man of science; that doesn’t exactly go hand in hand with faith. Now…”

“So you’re telling us you have no idea what you are, then?” Dean asked him. He looked skeptical, but not combative, which was a surprise. Judging by the reputation the man had, Spencer had expected more growling, more anger. More ‘ready to kill’. Supernatural things didn’t exactly survive when they went up against the Winchesters. But he wasn’t angry sounding. He was, questioning. Curious.

“I’m me.” Spencer answered him. “I’m not anything special. Just, just a regular kid with a bit telekinesis. What is it people call it? A, a ‘spoon-bender’.”

“Lies. I can see the grace inside of you.” The angel spoke in a voice that was like a rockslide in its low rumble. “You are a nephilim, the child of a human and an angel, and as such you are not to be trusted.”

Sam, surprisingly, winced a little, and Dean actually caught hold of this angel’s arm and tried to tug him back, failing miserably. “Dude, Cas, tone it down. Let us handle this.”

The angel, this ‘Cas’, actually seemed to subside a little at Dean’s request. That said a lot about the older Winchester if all it took was a single sentence for him to get an _angel_ to back down. What kind of person was able to tell an angel what to do? Those thoughts didn’t exactly help to settle Spencer's nerves. He felt shaky and jittery and utterly terrified. The only time he could remember feeling terror anywhere close to this was when a gun had been pointed at his head while a madman had played Russian Roulette in an effort to convince Spencer to pick a member of his team to die.

Spencer shoved that memory down as far as he could make it go. He’d managed to keep calm then, to think clearly, because the lives of his team had depended on it. Now, it was only him, only his life. There was no chance of someone stumbling in to save him. No camera with his team watching for him to feed clues to. There was only him, this ring of fire, two hunters and one angel. This was his worst fear coming true here. He was trapped by hunters that knew he was a supernatural _something_. He just hadn’t expected them to have a name for him. If Spencer wanted to make it out of this alive he was going to have to keep his wit about him. Fears and insane life altering revelations were going to have to wait until he had the freedom and luxury to think about them properly. Somehow he managed to make his voice calm, though he couldn’t stop the slight tremble that slipped through. “I’m not…there’s no way I am what you think I am! I’m not some part angel child. My parents are both human.”

“We know you have powers.” Dean said firmly. A hint of a scowl twisted his features. “You threw Sammy over the car!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Spencer blurted out. His hands curled into fists at his side and he drew in a deep breath. _Calm. Control!_ “Your information has to be wrong. I think I’d know if I was an angel. For starters, I don’t have wings…”

“Nephilim do not possess wings.” Cas interrupted.

Interesting, and something to think about—later. “I told you, I’ve only ever had telekinesis! If I were what you think I am, some insanely power being, would I have a bit more than that?” He very deliberately didn’t mention the powers that had been manifesting since he’d quit the Dilaudid. Since before then, really. Since that night in Georgia when he’d died and been born again. The drugs had just made him not really think about it. And each time he’d started to think again, he’d gotten high all over again and pushed those thoughts and fears a little further back.

There was no running from them now. Not with his brain pushing them at him. And not when he had Sam and Dean Winchester here in front of him throwing it all right back in his face.

“I think you know what we’re talking about.” Sam said slowly. He took a step forward, away from his friends and closer to the fire. His eyes were fixed right on Spencer's face and they were open and earnest in a way few people were. Even though Spencer recognized the rough technique that Sam was employing here, talking down a stressed out Unsub or traumatized victim, he found it working. It was hard to keep tense when Sam smiled at him and the warmth of his emotions were bleeding over to Spencer and spelling out _calm_ and _safety_ and _openness_ , giving his words a weight they might not have otherwise held. “I believe you that you’ve only ever had telekinesis, but I think something happened. Something changed recently, didn’t it? And you’ve had other things happening. Strange things. The little miracles, they weren’t centered around Bennington, were they? They were centered around _you_.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Spencer said. It sounded far too much like a plea for his comfort.

“Maybe not intentionally.” Sam agreed. He tilted his head, watching Spencer's face carefully. “You’re scared. These powers, they scare you. They’re knew and you had no idea where they came from, did you?”

“Is that possible, Cas?” Dean asked, turning to look at the angel.

For a moment Cas just studied Spencer in a way that made the young genius feel like he was a bug under a microscope. He looked at Spencer like he was seeing more than just his outside. Like he was staring down into him. “It is possible.” He finally said, slowly. “If the angel that fathered him bound him when he was born, it is plausible that his powers could’ve been locked down until triggered by something.”

Triggered…. “Like dying?” Spencer asked. His question brought all three sets of eyes back to him, but he looked at Cas. “I, died, recently. I was resuscitated in enough time to bring me back, but I was clinically dead for a few minutes.”

The angel’s wings lowered a little out of their threatening posture and became something a bit more controlled, almost contemplative. “That would do it. In the moment of death the binding would be no longer necessary. Your soul and grace would’ve tried to move on, but being brought back in enough time they would still be in your body only without the binding there. It is…possible.” Then his expression hardened once more. “It changes nothing. The point still remains that nephilim are dangerous and forbidden. The fact that you are untrained only makes you more of a danger. You have immense power and no control. The miracles you caused here are on a small scale, with your powers just coming to life. What could be caused as you gain control—we cannot risk that. We cannot risk Lucifer getting control of that.”

“ _Lucifer_?” Spencer almost squeaked as he said it. Lucifer was real? Real…and apparently would want control of Spencer? Of his power? The terror that Spencer had been feeling grew tenfold.

Again, it was Sam who was the calm one. “He doesn’t have to go bad, Cas.” He told the angel in a voice that suggested he’d made this argument before. “He’s a grown adult, one capable of making an informed choice. Why can’t he choose good?”

Cas leaned in and his wings were lifting high again, one of them curling in towards Sam in a way that would’ve had Spencer trying to yank the man back if he could. When the angel got close, he almost snarled out “ _You didn’t_.”

The force of his words was like a blow. Sam staggered back from them like he’d been slapped and Dean winced. It was an awkward moment in the making with undertones that Spencer knew he had no hope of beginning to understand. There was a history here, a huge one, and he was pretty sure it probably had something to do with the whole Lucifer thing that they were mentioning. It was something that Spencer knew was probably important and something he should definitely be paying attention to. However, it was getting harder and harder to keep his fear bottled up. His body kept wanting to curl inwards in a futile attempt to get away from the fire around him. Later, he was going to have to examine when exactly he’d developed such a fear of fire. So much of one that even the idea of going near those flames was enough to make his body tremble and his light pulse erratically.

“Listen,” Spencer called out, drawing their attention away from each other and back over to him. “I think we’ve safely established that I have no wings and therefore, no capability to fly away from you, and I assume that anything I do power wise your a-angel,” he couldn’t help stumbling a little over that word, “would be able to stop. So, is there any way that we might continue this conversation without the fire? I find it rather hard to focus on much else beyond the potential to burn.”

It looked like Cas was going to lodge some sort of protest. But, much to Spencer's surprise, it was Dean who moved forward to put it out. When he went to step on it, the angel’s wings did a little twitch like they wanted to reach out and stop him, and then the fire slowly went down around Spencer. The two hunters looked to Cas, who said nothing by way of explanation.

A good chunk of the tension inside of Spencer faded away now that the fire was no longer a threat. He wanted to move out of the protective circle and away from the circle where the fire had been but he had a feeling that’d be pushing his luck. This was a moment where he should take what he could get. “Thank you.” He told them earnestly.

“Don’t think this means we’re done.” Dean warned him.

Spencer held his hands up in a gesture of peace. It was almost amusing how they all reacted to just that simple movement. Dean and Sam both leaned back a little and Cas straightened up even more like he was prepared to protect these boys no matter what Spencer did. They were treating him like he was a volatile Unsub. Realizing it, Spencer carefully and slowly lowered his hands back down. “I’m not going to try anything. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Yeah, well trouble’s gonna find you whether you like it or not.” Dean said.

Well that wasn’t ominous sounding at all. “What are you talking about?” The way he said it wasn’t like it was a threat. Spencer didn’t feel as if Dean were threatening him. But there _was_ some sort of underlying danger to the comment that had him tensing once more.

“Short version?” Dean hooked his thumbs in his pockets and his lips quirked up in a mocking half-smirk. “I went to Hell, Sammy banged a demon, Lucifer got set free and the apocalypse is coming. Angels take vessels like demons do, only they have to have permission. Sammy and I, we’re the true vessels of the two biggest douchebags of all and they want to ride our asses and have a major showdown that’s gonna destroy the planet. We’re trying to stop it.” His smirk turned into a full-fledged grin, one that Spencer imagined got him what he wanted quite often. “Wanna join?”

Holy shit. The uncharacteristic curse floated through Spencer's mind, the only thing he could seem to think for a moment. His brain just sort of stalled and he stared, wide-eyed. “I can’t even…I don’t even know where to begin to question all of that.” How was he supposed to believe this? Knowing about the supernatural and about hunting was one thing. Believing that angels were real and the apocalypse was upon them…that was something else entirely!

Sam scowled at his brother. “Think maybe you could’ve done that a little gentler?” He asked. Dean shrugged one shoulder, a ‘what’re you gonna do about it’ look on his face, and the younger Winchester sighed and shook his head before he turned to look at Spencer. In contrast to his brother’s straightforward bluntness, Sam seemed to go for the softer route, his voice gentle as he spoke to Spencer. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. Not just this whole apocalypse bit, but all this about yourself too. But, Spencer—this isn’t something you’re going to be able to just walk away from. You're powerful. More powerful than...pretty much anything we've ever seen. That makes you, vulnerable.” Sam hesitated and then sighed. He looked honestly regretful. “It won’t be long before someone other than us notices the kinds of things happening around you. Cas is right on one thing—power like this can’t fall into Lucifer’s hands. You can’t begin to imagine the things he’d do to you to break you. I’m sorry, I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, I really do .I know what it’s like to be forced into something. But right now, coming with us is the only safe choice I can see.”

Wait a second…Dean’s offer had been serious? They wanted him to _join_ them? He couldn’t! He had a job, a life, and friends. He couldn’t just leave that behind. At almost the same time his brain told him _Can you really walk away from this? From the apocalypse? If there’s a chance that you going with them could save the world, are you really going to say no? Are you that selfish?_

“My mom.” A breath shuddered out of Spencer and he closed his eyes against the wave of pain. His mom was as protected as he could make her. He’d made sure of that over the years. But the idea of leaving her here where angels and maybe even other hunters might come looking—it terrified him.

“No one but us made the connection to you. They have no reason to come after her.” Sam said soothingly.

“You want to keep her safe, this is your best bet.” Dean said. “But, kid, look...once you're in this fight...You're in it till the end, win or lose.”

“I need to think about this.” This was too much to take in at once. Spencer always worked best under pressure and he had a mind that processed things so much faster than those around him, yet even his genius skills were having a hard time taking all of this in. It was so much, _too much_ , and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t stand here and think clearly. Not with all this echoing around him, standing in what had moments ago been a fiery prison, with an angel still watching him threateningly from the sidelines. He needed to get out of here and go somewhere, _alone,_ so he could just think for five minutes.

It looked like the older Winchester was going to protest, and the angel definitely wanted to, but Sam caught his brother’s eye and they carried on almost an entire conversation in eye movements, head tilts, shoulder shrugs, and facial expressions. It was frankly impressive. Finally, Dean seemed to give in, sighing and nodding. “We’ll need to hide him.” He tacked on.

“Cas said his powers hide him.” Sam said.

“Yeah, well, if he’s not in control, let’s not risk it. Cas, can you put that junk on his ribs that you put on ours?”

“Absolutely.” Cas said. Immediately he moved towards Spencer and the young genius responded instinctively, stumbling back a few quick steps. He didn’t want Cas coming close to him. He just knew that if he let the angel close to him, he could do anything and there would be no way Spencer could get away from him. There was this small part of him that scared him because it almost seemed like the light inside of him wanted to lean in _closer_ towards Cas, not away from him, and he had no idea why he would want to do that.

It was enough to make Cas stop and look at him curiously. His wings weren’t in that threatening pose anymore and there was nothing angry on his face. He looked more like…like someone inspecting a particularly interesting creature, waiting to see if it was going to do something interesting. It wasn’t condescending or anything. Just, curious. “I am not going to hurt you.”

“Seeing as how you rather recently were advocating killing me, you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t quite believe that.” Spencer said.

That drew a snort from Dean and a smothered sort of smile from Sam.

Spencer kept his eyes locked on the angel; or, more accurately, on his wings. They seemed to be a better indicator of what he was feeling than anything else. Which was so beyond strange Spencer didn’t even know where to start with that thought.

“I am not going to hurt you.” Cas repeated. “There are protective sigils I can inscribe onto your ribs that will keep you hidden from the sight of angels. It will help to add a layer of protection to that which you already naturally possess.”

Something reached out from Cas as he spoke, a little tendril of light that had, up until now, been rather carefully hidden. But it was like some sort of shield fell away now and Spencer could see the light inside of the human skin, one that was so much like his own. A bit of that light was reaching for him and the light that Spencer had always carried inside of him responded to it by reaching out in return. Breath shuddered out of him and his eyes went wide. The distance between them seemed to vanish; Cas was suddenly right there, right in front of him, and his light was brushing against Spencer's in a touch that screamed out _home_ and _peace_ and the kind of safety and sense of family that he’d been aching for his entire life.

Fingers brushed against Spencer's temple and the pain of the sigils being carved onto his ribs was nothing in comparison to the joy he felt as that light curled itself around his.

Then, suddenly, that light clenched down tight, going from soft and warm to hard in the blink of an eye. Spencer had no chance to draw back from it. It tightened around him and Spencer couldn’t stop as the dark surrounded him once more and he was shoved down into it.

* * *

All of it seemed to happen so fast. One moment Castiel was reaching out to Spencer and the young genius was looking at him with something that Sam thought might be awe on his face. Then horror lit up Spencer's face before his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped down into Castiel’s arms.

A bad feeling curled in Sam’s stomach. Beside him, Dean lurched forward, his own expression surprised. “Cas! What the hell happened?”

“He’s fine.” Castiel said firmly. He gathered Spencer up in his arms like the kid was a rag doll. “He’s just unconscious.”

“You knocked him out?” Sam said slowly. There was a horror he couldn’t quite keep out of his voice. Castiel had gone over there to help ward Spencer and he’d…knocked him out? There were so many things that were wrong with that.

The way Castiel was looking at him said clearly that he didn’t understand why Sam was stating the obvious. Dean saved an argument from breaking out between the two by demanding “I thought you were just gonna scribble on his ribs, not knock the kid unconscious!”

“He has no control over his powers. Would you prefer he rode with you and left a trail for everything supernatural on the planet to follow? Or would you have preferred he choose not to allow us to help and instead ran so that we could not find him? If you are insistent on keeping him alive, he needs to be contained until we find a way to control him.”

The fact that he said ‘control him’ and not ‘teach him control’ sent shivers down Sam’s spine.

“I will take him to Bobby Singer’s home.” Castiel said, not even seeming to notice the stunned way they were looking at him. “The panic room should have sufficient wards to hold him until he learns control.” With no more warning than that, Castiel and the kid were gone.

Sam stared where the angel had been for a long moment before he finally managed to find his voice. Even then, the only thing he could say was “What the hell?”

“I don’t even know.” Dean sounded frustrated and tired and something else that Sam couldn’t put a name to. “I think he’s just trying to help.”

“He tricked him and knocked him unconscious!” Sam shot back. “We just got that kid to trust us just a little bit and Cas went and pulled something like that. When he wakes up, he’s not gonna trust a word we have to say to him.”

Dean couldn’t even deny it. He grimaced, knowing the truth behind it. “I know, Sam. But what do you expect me to do? I don’t control Cas!”

Glaring, Sam pointed a finger at his brother. “He better be alive when we get there, Dean.” That said, he turned around and marched away. They needed to get out of here and get to Bobby’s house, now. It’d take them a little over a half a day’s drive if Dean sped—which he would. There was no telling what might happen in the meantime.

They were just climbing into the car when Dean’s phone went off. Even from the passenger’s seat, Sam clearly heard Bobby’s voice when Dean answered the phone, loudly demanding “ _Someone tell me why the hell Feathers just dumped a kid in my panic room!_ ”

“Well, at least we know he’s still alive.” Sam grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't shoot me! (grins)
> 
> Remember, reviews are golden!


	4. Chapter 4

Bobby hadn’t cooled down at all by the time they arrived at his place. If anything, he was even more pissed off than he’d been when he called. He met them at the front door with a scowl and furious demand of “What the hell took you so long!”

“Dean broke every speed limit there was, Bobby…” Sam tried to explain, only to get cut off by Bobby furiously snapping “Not fast enough!”

“Bobby, man, take it easy.” Dean said.

Bobby transferred his scowl from Sam to Dean. “Don’t you tell me to take it easy, boy. You aint the one that’s been trapped here listening to a kid hollering from your basement!” When they winced, he snorted at them. “Yeah. Kid woke up about a few hours after Feathers left. An let me tell you, he aint happy.”

 _Jesus_. Sam could only imagine. He knew the terrifying sensation of waking up somewhere that you don’t know, unable to get free. How much worse was it to be brought there by people who you had started to think that maybe you could trust? Spencer didn’t even have the benefit of really knowing them and knowing that they had his best interests at heart here. All he would know was that he’d trusted them and they’d betrayed him. What made it worse was knowing that they couldn’t really let him out yet, either. Sam and Dean had talked about it on the way here—argued, shouting at the top of their lungs sometimes—and they’d come to the conclusion that Castiel was right about the fact that they couldn’t have anything that drew the attention of angels or anything else. Until they figured out a way to help Spencer control his powers, he was going to have to stay where he and everyone else were safe. Something told Sam that Bobby wasn’t going to be any happier about it than he was.

He was right.

They sat in Bobby’s living room as Dean told him that he was basically going to be playing jailhouse for just a little bit longer. Sam hadn’t thought it was possible for Bobby to look any more pissed off than he already had, but he was proven wrong. “You want to _keep him in there_?” Bobby demanded.

“Just for a little while!” Dean said quickly. “Just until we can figure out how to train up his powers or keep them under control somehow.”

“I’m not keeping some kid locked up just because he had the misfortune of having an angel daddy!”

“It is in the best interests of all, the nephilim included.” Another voice chimed in. No one had heard Castiel’s arrival but they all turned to look at him now. He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the open temper in the room. Maybe he’d just gotten used to things being that way here. Sam didn’t let himself think about how depressing that thought was.

Now that Castiel was in the room, Bobby was free to turn his ire on him. “I fail to see how trickin’ a kid and locking him in my panic room is in his best interests!”

“Would you rather Lucifer tracked his movements and came to retrieve him for his own means?” Castiel asked.

“Of course not, Cas.” Dean said quickly.

“Then this is the route we must take. I’m currently looking into a way to safely bind his powers, even temporarily. Might I suggest you turn your research towards the same?”

There were times where Sam forgot just how ‘other’ Castiel was. Logically, he knew their friend was an angel. That wasn’t something that a person forgot. And he’d seen as Castiel slowly tried to figure out humanity. But the fact that he wasn’t actually human came through so much clearer in moments like this. To Castiel, this was a simple situation with a simple solution. He didn’t stop to think about it from a human perspective. He didn’t stop to think how they were locking a man away, keeping him prisoner, and how that might make Spencer feel. He didn’t think about how his earlier actions had destroyed whatever trust they had building, or how impossible that trust might be to earn back.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. This whole situation was a mess. _I guess it’s time I try and help clean it up a little._ “I’ll go down and talk to him.”

He was surprised when Dean immediately shook his head. “No, I will.” He saw the look Sam was giving him and his lips quirked up into a mirthless smile. “Kid’s gonna be plenty pissed off. Let him take it out on me now. Then later you can go in and do that whole touchy-feely girly crap you do that always gets people to talk to you.”

Huh. Sam’s eyebrows went up in a clear look of surprise. “Dean, that’s almost…nice.” He made sure to say it with enough skepticism to imply just how strange he found it. He got the desired result. Dean scowled at him and told him to “Shut up” before he turned and took off towards the panic room.

* * *

Spencer had never felt so utterly afraid and absolutely furious at the same time.

He’d woken up _hours_ ago alone inside of this cold prison and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of anyone since then. None of his shouts had brought anyone down to him. He was alone, trapped inside of this insane room that was covered in so many protective sigils and warding sigils, and there was no way out. No windows to crawl out of, and definitely no way to open the huge, thick door. All he had were a few bookshelves, a disgusting looking cot in the middle of the room, and a dusty desk. Nothing that could help him escape. He was trapped here with no way out.

But worse than all of that, worse than being trapped here or being alone…

His light was gone.

Never once in all of Spencer's years had the light inside of him ever been _gone_. It’d always been a part of him. Sometimes it felt like more of a part of him than anything else. He’d felt it as this living ball of light that sat in his chest and flowed through his veins. Since he’d died in Georgia—if he could believe anything the Winchesters and their angel had said, that would’ve been the catalyst removing the ‘binding’ over his light, or grace as they’d called it—his light seemed to have grown. It didn’t just sit in his chest anymore. It filled him and brought with it all these powers that had terrified Spencer. Sure, he’d always known that it was the source of his powers, that his telekinesis stemmed from that light, but it was so much more than that. It was _him_. Spencer had no idea how to explain it better than that. All the languages he knew, all the words he possessed, and he could never think of a better way to describe that light than as simply _him_. The essence of himself. And now it was gone.

It felt like someone had scraped out his soul with a jagged knife and left him with this raw emptiness where _everything_ had used to be. Spencer would take torture over this feeling. He’d take anything if it meant he could have that part of himself back. It hurt! It hurt so much more than anything he’d ever known.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to bang on that door and demand they come down here and get him the hell out of here. He wanted _free_! But no one came, and Spencer knew he couldn’t afford the luxury of a freak out. Not now. Not when he had no idea what they wanted with him.

How much of what they’d said had been truth and how much was lies? The apocalypse—that, at least, he had been able to sense was true. He’d felt their emotions when they spoke about it. That was true. And it made sense that they wouldn’t lie about telling him he was a nephilim. There was no point in lying about that. It would serve no purpose to talk about how powerful he was if he wasn’t really. So, those were truth. But they’d lied about wanting to help him. They’d lied about not hurting him.

Did they…did they think he was a threat? Spencer knew the history supernatural things had with the Winchesters. If one was supernatural and crossed their paths, they didn’t tend to survive. Were they, going to kill him? But why keep him alive? _For information_. It was the only thing that made sense. Not that he knew any information. There was no other reason he could think of that they’d keep him alive instead of killing him.

Unless, maybe they planned on simply _holding_ him. Keeping him prisoner so that he couldn’t go to Lucifer. Maybe they’d found some middle ground between the Winchesters wanting to trust him and their angel wanting to kill him. This could be some sort of strange compromise between them. Simply keep Spencer locked up in this iron prison. Had they—oh, God, had they done something to yank away his light? Was it…gone? Really, truly gone?

It took almost a half an hour for Spencer to get his breathing back under control and stop the panic attack that tried to take over.

He was only barely in control again when he heard noise from upstairs. Not a lot, just enough to tell him that there were people up there. He didn’t shout to them, though. What would be the point?

Then he heard the sound of footsteps and they sounded like they were getting closer. Spencer straightened up from the wall and stared at the door and listened carefully. Yes, they were. They were coming closer. Someone was finally coming. Very deliberately he straightened out his body and locked down everything he could.

They would get no trust from him. He’d played nice and this was what it’d earned him. Now, he wasn’t going to play nice and friendly anymore. Spencer drew in a shaky breath and let it back out slowly as he watched the door to his prison. He wasn’t going to lay here and cower before them. He’d done that far too much in life. This time, he wouldn’t let them see how afraid he was. He wouldn’t let them see how broken he felt with this gaping emptiness inside of him where his light had used to be. _Let them think it’s still there,_ a voice in his head told him, sounding suspiciously like Derek. _If they don’t know that one of their wards has taken your light, don’t clue them in. Better to let them think you’re as powerful as they were preaching about earlier. It might make them hesitant on trying anything. Just keep calm and watch. Your opportunity to escape will come._

He wasn’t all that surprised when the door finally opened and it was Dean who came in. Spencer stayed on the far side of the room and didn’t bother trying to rush out of here. Just because the door was open didn’t mean that he could escape. Dean would stop him. Spencer knew he didn’t stand a chance against the hunter in physical skills. He wasn’t Derek; he couldn’t hide until the door opened and ambush him to get free. Not to mention there was no telling who they had upstairs.

Dean took one look at him and Spencer could see the slight wince. It was his first clue how bad he must look. He hadn’t really thought about it. “Hey.” Dean said lowly. He tried for a grin and failed miserably at it. “So I, uh, I imagine you’re pretty pissed off right now.”

 _Understatement_ , Spencer thought. He kept his mouth shut, though.

“Listen, I know this looks bad, really I do, and I get that you’re pissed. I don’t blame you.”

Spencer had never been what one would call snarky. His mouth could run away with him, yes, but he’d been bullied enough in childhood to learn how to keep his mouth shut in certain situations. It hadn’t been until the Dilaudid, until the come downs and the withdrawal, that he’d discovered that mouthier side of himself once more. That side showed itself now. Before he could stop himself, he dryly said “I’m so glad to know I have your approval.”

Again, just a small flinch, only barely noticeable around Dean’s eyes. “Believe it or not, we’re trying to help you here. All that stuff we told you back there, it’s all true. We didn’t lie to you. But you gotta realize, until we figure out a way to help make sure you’ve got your powers under control, we gotta make sure you’re hidden. This room’s the best place for that. Bobby has this room warded better than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Forgive me if I’m not impressed.” Spencer said. Did Dean think he was going to believe him now? That he was going to buy this story? “So, that’s your plan? You’re going to leave me locked in this room until such time that your angel finds a way to control me?”

“A way to help you find control.” Dean corrected.

A low scoff slid free. Like he was going to believe that. These guys wanted to control him just as much as they claimed Lucifer would.

“We’re not the bad guys here, doc.” Dean said, his voice just a bit softer than before. It was strange to hear after his earlier gruffness. “We’re trying to help.”

“Can I leave this room?” Spencer asked.

“No.”

Spencer shook his head and turned away. “Then don’t delude yourself into thinking I’m anything other than a prisoner here.”

He heard a soft sigh behind him and then Dean said “I’m sorry, kid.”

Let him be sorry. It didn’t change things. It didn’t get Spencer free of here.

He didn’t acknowledge Dean’s words at all. Instead, he stared at the wall and waited silently until he heard the sounds of the older Winchester leaving. The door shut behind him with a clang that made Spencer flinch. Then, the sound of the lock clicking into place. Spencer's eyes closed on a wave of grief. He was trapped here. Trapped, with no way out, by people who were trying to claim they were only doing what was ‘best’.

There was no one around to see the single tear that slipped free.

* * *

The next time someone came to see him was hours later. Spencer looked up from where he sat at the desk, a book in hand, and watched as Sam came in bearing a tray of food. For an hour now the young genius had been pretending to read the book he held. Mostly, he’d sat here at the desk with his head propped up on one hand and his fingers rubbing lightly at his temple to try and take away the weird ache in his head. It was a step up from what he really wanted to do, which was curl up on that bed and rub at the even bigger ache in his chest where that empty feeling still sat.

Sam smiled at him as he came in, making him look kind of like this big, sheepish puppy. It was probably a look that had endeared him to a lot of people. Spencer watched him dispassionately as the hunter brought the tray of food over to the desk he sat at. “Hey. I brought you a little something to eat. I figured you might be getting hungry.”

Out of anyone that could’ve come down, Sam was probably his best bet on getting information. Spencer knew there was a sharp mind in there, he’d seen it in their interactions, but he’d also seen and _felt_ the soft heart that lived inside him. Then again, maybe that had been a trick, just like everything else. He was here, wasn’t he? Spencer folded the book in his lap and looked up at Sam, refusing to cower even if the man’s towering presence beside him had him wanting to back away. “Has your angel found a way to leash me, yet?” The words were brittle and bitter and only barely covered up Spencer's fear.

Unlike his brother, who hid his discomfort, Sam’s wince was right out there for Spencer to see. “We don’t want to leash you, Dr. Reid.” Sighing out a breath, the younger Winchester took a few steps back and then sank down to sit on the edge of the cot. “We really are trying to help, even if it doesn’t seem like it. Castiel…he went about it the wrong way. He doesn’t think about things quite like humans do. To him, you needed to be somewhere that you couldn’t be sensed, somewhere that we’d all be safe, and he wasn’t sure you’d agree so it was just logical to bring you right here. He doesn’t think about how that feels for a person. He’s better than he used to be, but he’s still learning about humanity. He’s too used to thinking like a soldier.”

Spencer picked absently at the burger in front of him. He didn’t want to listen to the earnest tone in Sam’s voice. He didn’t want to see the way he looked at him, so open and honest and pleading. They had brought him here. They’d _trapped_ him here. “He may have brought me here, but you’re the ones keeping me here.”

“Just until we can find a way to help get your powers under control so you can be safe.”

“Safe from what?” Spencer asked, finally looking up. Part of his mind was telling him how stupid it was to antagonize his kidnappers and how he needed to keep his calm and treat this like any other case. The other part of him, the part that ached and throbbed and _screamed_ with every breath, that part just didn’t care. “Safe from being kidnapped by someone who wants to find a way to control my supposed immense power and use it to win some war?” He wasn’t just talking about Lucifer here and the both of them knew it.

This time Sam’s wince was a little stronger. “That’s not what we’re trying to do here, Dr. Reid.”

“Isn’t it?” Spencer raised an eyebrow and dared him to contradict. When he didn’t, Spencer nodded, a silent ‘that’s what I thought’, and then he turned his attention back to his food. Picking the burger up and holding it in the napkin, he gathered up the tray and held it out to Sam. “Here. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble for leaving me with something that might be misconstrued as a weapon of some sort.”

It was a clear dismissal. Sam took the tray and gave him one last, sad look before he left him there.

The door locking seemed to echo louder than before.

* * *

Sleep finally overcame Spencer whether he liked it or not. He woke up with his head still resting on his arms on the desk and his body feeling strangely heavy and hollow. There was a thick, dry taste in his mouth and a throbbing ache in his head that only grew worse when he tried to move. His eyelids felt like they’d been glued together. What was going on here?

Spencer tried to push himself up to his feet. But he barely made it halfway up before dizziness assaulted him and he had to slap his palms down on the desktop to keep himself from falling back down. The gaping emptiness inside of him seemed to taunt him as he stood there and tried to gather his bearings. What the hell was wrong with him? Something…something wasn’t right here. Something was very, very wrong. He felt sore and empty, his head was throbbing and yet it also felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton. It made it hard to think, like dragging your feet through molasses. Or quicksand. Every thought he had just kept getting sucked back under. The last time he’d felt this bad, he’d…

 _No_. Horror filled Spencer. It pushed back some of the fog and cleared his head a little. Just enough for him to turn his stare to the empty napkin and the paper cup that were the only remnants of his earlier meal. No, they couldn’t have. Had they? He didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to believe how completely and utterly stupid he was and just how much trouble he was really in. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The only time he’d ever felt like this, had been when he was drugged.

This wasn’t like the Dilaudid. At least, not like it’d been at the end there, when he’d been doing it on his own. This was like the cabin. Only, without the hallucinations. This was what he’d felt like when he would wake up after Tobias had given him an injection and it was finally starting to fade a little. The feeling of cotton in his head, the dry mouth, the weird shakes and dizziness, the inability to think properly. God, they were _drugging_ him? Bad enough that they were holding him in a room he couldn’t escape from. Now they were drugging him!

Shaking legs barely carried Spencer over to the gross looking cot. As much as he didn’t want to lay on it, not having any idea who’d been there before, he didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to keep his body upright.

He collapsed down onto the cot and immediately curled himself into a ball. What was he going to do?

His team would look for him eventually, when he didn’t return from his vacation. But how were they going to find him? They wouldn’t know where to look. There was no telling how far the angel had taken them away from Vegas. And with all the supernatural wards and an actual angel on their side, the Winchesters would be able to keep him well hidden.

No one was coming for him. He was alone here, trapped in this room, empty and drugged. Spencer had never been the type to give up before—he’d always fought, always pushed on until he could find a way to get out of a situation—but that emptiness inside of him felt like a giant black hole, sucking him down and under, and this drugged feeling only made it all worse.

He was trapped here. And he was afraid there was going to be no way out.

* * *

When someone came by later with another tray of food, Spencer pretended to be asleep. He wasn’t going to give them the chance to drug him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of mix-ups and misunderstandings in this chapter. Poor Spencer!


	5. Chapter 5

Two days had gone by since the Castiel had brought their newest ‘guest’ to Bobby’s place. Two days in which Sam had spent almost the entire time worrying. After his first talk with Spencer, the young doctor had shut down on them almost completely. He didn’t talk to them, didn’t eat, didn’t do anything except sleep. At least, not while they were in the room. Sometimes things were moved around in a way that suggested that he’d done things while they were gone. Castiel had reported that he’d taken care of necessary bathroom items for Spencer as well, which had made Sam wince a little.

It was getting to the point that Sam was ready to say damn the consequences and just let him out. He hadn’t signed on to torture anyone and that was exactly what they were doing. They could fancy it up under countless other words but it all boiled down to the fact that they were torturing him. They’d taken someone who could’ve been a great ally and they’d tricked him, locked him up, and kept him locked away for days. Any chance they’d had of actually gaining his help were pretty much lost now. Sam knew Spencer saw them on the same level as any other bad guy. Not that he could blame him.

Sam wasn’t the only one who was feeling this way. When Sam once more brought up a tray that Spencer had refused to eat, Bobby looked up from where he had his chair parked by the bookshelf and he gave a sigh when he saw that the tray was still full. “We gotta do something before that kid wastes away.” Bobby said.

Looking up from the laptop, Dean eyed the tray and there was a brief flash of worry in his eyes that was almost immediately smothered. “He’ll have to give in and eat at some point. He’s not gonna starve himself.”

“When’d you turn so heartless, boy?” Bobby demanded, rolling forward so he could better see and scowl at Dean. “That aint no monster we got down there. That’s a boy. A real, part human boy! An we’ve got him locked up like some demon!”

“What do you want us to do, Bobby? Let him out and have his powers go crazy and bring all the angels down on us? Or maybe let him accidentally do something that’s not as nice as the stuff he was doing before?” Slapping the laptop lid down, and ignoring Sam’s protesting glare at the move, he glared right back at their surrogate father. “You heard Cas! All the things that happened around the kid before, that was when he was happy. What do you think’s gonna happen if we let him out now while he’s upset?”

“So you just wanna hold him hostage until, what? Your angel finds a way to collar that kid? Cause let me tell you, I’ve heard him talk and he sure as hell don’t sound like he’s trying to help him none. He sounds more like he’s trying to find a way to leash up his own personal attack dog. One he’s convinced is gonna have to be put down once he’s done using him.”

It was blunt and harsh, yet no less true. Castiel had a disgust for Spencer's species that seemed to even rival the views the angels held on Sam. He’d thought that the angels had been disgusted by him, calling him an abomination. Their views on nephilim seemed to be so much worse.

Sam set the tray down on the counter and then turned around to lean back against the counter’s edge. He brought a hand up and ran it through his hair. This whole situation had been screwed right from the start. Right from the instant that Castiel had touched the kid’s head and knocked him out. Whatever they did now was only going to be damage control. But something had to be done. Something had to change. “Bobby’s right, Dean. We can’t keep doing this.”

There was a brief moment where he thought his brother was going to protest. Then, surprisingly, the older Winchester deflated. “I know. But what the hell else are we gonna do?”

“Put up some new wards.” Bobby said immediately. “We add some more wards around the property and hope they hold. The kid’ll still be stuck in the house but that’s a damn sight better’n the panic room.”

“And if he doesn’t wanna stay?” Dean asked.

No one had an answer to that.

After a long moment of quiet, Bobby rolled back towards the bookcase. “I’ll look up the wards we need. Hopefully, we can get ‘em up before breakfast tomorrow. Kid might eat if it was actually up at a table.”

* * *

For Spencer the days seemed to drag on, one bleeding into the next in a way that would’ve been terrifying if he didn’t feel so broken and empty on the inside. If he’d been in a better frame of mind, he would’ve been terrified by how quickly and how easily he broke. There was a part of him that knew that he’d say or do just about anything if it meant that they’d let him out of this room.

There was another part that just didn’t care. He wasn’t sure which one was scarier.

That empty feeling where his light had been only felt emptier and emptier with each passing moment. The raw edges where it’d been scraped away were aching and sore in ways he’d never experienced. It felt like something really had been _cut_ out of him and the wounds left behind were raw and inflamed. Maybe that was the case. Maybe his light had been scraped out of him and the wounds left behind were infected, seeping poison into his system. It was killing him inside and he didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t know how to make it go away.

Food held absolutely no appeal to him. He’d been so sure that the Winchesters were using it to drug him somehow, only he’d refused a few meals now and that feeling didn’t go away. His head is foggy and aching and his body feels like it’s been run over.

 _This isn’t right,_ a rational voice in the back of his mind whispers. It sounds a little like JJ and Spencer curls a little tighter into himself. He was curled up against the wall, out of the direct line of sight of the door. It was the only way he was going to get any semblance of privacy. _You’re a fighter, Spence_ , JJ’s vice whispers to him again. _This isn’t you. Something’s wrong here. Something serious. You need to tell them._

 _Why?_ Spencer wanted to ask her. He laid his head down on his knees and closed his eyes, exhausted. _Why bother? They don’t care. They locked me in here, JJ. They locked me in here and left me here like this. Why should I tell them?_

 _Maybe they don’t know,_ Derek’s voice suggests.

Almost immediately it’s follow by Aaron’s stern voice. _If they wanted you dead, they would’ve killed you. They want you alive for something, Reid. That means they’ll do what’s necessary to keep you that way. Whatever this is, it’s going to kill you if you don’t find a way to fix it. You need to tell them_.

“Go away.” He whispers. They don’t understand. How could they? They had no idea what this felt like. They didn’t know what it was like to get everything you were ripped away from you. “Just leave me alone. I’m tired.” He was so damn tired. Tired of being taken, tired of being hurt, tired of fighting. He was just utterly exhausted and he didn’t know if he could find the energy to keep going and keep trying. To keep fighting.

He was so caught up in the pain and the grief and the misery that he didn’t even notice anyone coming until the sound of the door opening broke through his inner argument.

Spencer didn’t bother lifting his head. He rolled it just enough that he could look with one eye through the small screen of hair that hung lank and loose in front of him. The person standing in the doorway wasn’t anyone that Spencer had ever seen before. Without his light, Spencer can’t see any deeper than the body, can’t see anything that might be hidden inside. All he can see is the shock followed almost immediately by the absolute fury on the man’s face. That should’ve worried him. He should’ve been scared.

He couldn’t even bring himself to care. Spencer knew he should do something to stop the guy who was now coming towards him with purpose written in every inch of his body. The guy came right up to him and crouched down in front of him. Whatever he was going to do, there was nothing Spencer could do to stop it. A faint tremor ran down his body and he let his eyes close again.

“What’re you doing in here, little bird?”

The man’s voice was low and almost kind—almost—with just a hint of something else underneath it that was kind of sharp and maybe even a little bit dangerous. Should he answer it? Probably not. He had no idea who this guy was or why he was here. Did the Winchesters send him? Did they know he was here? It didn’t seem likely if he was asking Spencer what he was doing here. Spencer sighed and let his head rest a little more heavily against his knees. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me.” The guy said, and he sounded serious.

What harm could come from answering? Spencer didn’t bother opening his eyes as he said, “I’m being kept for my own protection. I’m _dangerous._ ” He didn’t even have the energy to put the proper amount of scorn in those words as he would’ve days ago. They came out sounding heavy and throbbing with the pain that was pounding in his chest and in his head. _Alone_ , the pain called to him with each throb, like some sick parody of his heartbeat. _Alone. Gone. Alone. Gone. Empty. Alone. Alone. Alone._

“Shit.” There was a soft rustle of movement that reminded Spencer that his visitor was still here. A second later, a firm hand settled on his shoulder, the first touch that Spencer had had in days. “Hang on, little bird. We’re getting you the hell outta here.” The hand on his shoulder slid, moving around his back, and Spencer felt another one slipping down to push between his thigh and his calf, getting under his legs. Arms that were far stronger than they should be cradled him easily and pulled him in against a solid chest before suddenly the ground was gone and the man was straightening up. Spencer knew he should care about the fact that he was being picked up. He should be wondering about who the hell this was and how he was strong enough to pick up another grown man without any signs of trouble. Yet all Spencer could do was slump down into the man’s hold. _I’m so tired._

“I know you are.” The man murmured. “It’ll get better soon, I promise. Just a second, little bird, we’re almost there.”

Spencer realized they were moving and he mustered up just enough strength to start to hope that maybe he was finally, truly getting out of here. Then any and all thought was wiped away. The light that had been absent for so long came roaring back in with a ferocity that stole Spencer's breath away. It filled the empty places inside him, burning gloriously through his veins, chasing away the pain and the chill that had encompassed him ever since he’d first woken up in that hellhole. It was back. It was _back_! Spencer didn’t even notice the tears that poured from his eyes.

He could feel it growing and pulsing in him, erratic and crazy in ways that had spelled trouble in the past, but there was another light there, warm and soothing, and it wrapped around him and cradled him in a net of safety. It was the most amazing feeling in the world. After so long empty and broken, all he could feel was this amazing warmth and love and he wanted to reach out to it, wanted to wrap himself up in it, but he couldn’t.

The lessons he’d learned here had been hard ones and they were ones he wasn’t going to easily forget. He’d trusted another light like this before, another _grace_ , and it had betrayed him. It’d almost destroyed him.

Though it hurt, Spencer gathered up what control he could and he curled into himself and yanked his light in as tight as possible.

The guy holding him made a soft sound that was both painful and heartbreaking. “What the hell did they do to you, kiddo?”

There was no way for Spencer to answer that. Judging by the sigh he heard, an answer wasn’t expected.

Something in the air around them changed and Spencer fought not to jerk away in fear. He held himself tighter, gripped at his light and reveled in its presence inside of him.

The arms around him shifted and suddenly Spencer found himself being laid on something soft. He didn’t really register the bit of grace that curled around him and cleaned him up. All he knew was that he was somewhere warm and soft and that empty place inside of him was no longer empty.

A hand brushed a bit of hair back from his face. “Sleep.” The man told him, drawing his touch back. “I know you probably won’t believe it, but you’re safe here. Just sleep.”

There was nothing else Spencer could do. Wrapped up in the light of his grace, free of pain for the first time in days, he slept.

* * *

No one realized Spencer was gone until morning. Dean went down to let Spencer out and to explain to him about the new wards, only to find the door to the panic room open and the nephilim nowhere in sight. Cursing, Dean spun on his heel and rushed back upstairs. “Bobby! Sam!”

Sam met him in the hall as he tore up the stairs and out of the basement. There was a gun in his hand and a ready look on his face. His eyes were scanning in immediate search for whatever kind of trouble had set his brother yelling like that. Not far behind him, Bobby was seated in the doorway to the living room, a shotgun held firmly in his lap. “What is it?” Sam demanded, his eyes seeking out Dean again now that there was no visible threat.

“The doc’s gone.” Just three words, but they had everyone tensing even more.

“Gone?” Bobby repeated. He lowered his shotgun, but not his guard. “What the hell do ya mean, gone?”

Dean threw his hands up in the air. “I mean the door was open and no one was inside. He’s gone, Bobby!”

“How the hell did he get out?” Sam asked. He was lowering his gun as well. He didn’t let go of it, though.

They all knew that there was no way to break out of the panic room from the inside. Even with powers that were as strong as Spencer's supposedly were. If his powers were capable of getting him out of there it would’ve happened sooner. But that meant that someone had _let_ him out. The three men all eyed one another as they debated whether or not one of them did it. “I didn’t let him out.” Sam said slowly. They knew Bobby couldn’t; his chair couldn’t get down there. Dean met Sam’s eyes and said the same thing “I didn’t let him out, either.”

Only one other person knew he was there, at least to their knowledge. One quick, angry phone call from Dean later and Castiel was standing with them. Dean didn’t bother wasting time. “Did you let the doc out of the panic room?”

Surprise and something that might’ve been panic lit up Castiel’s face. “The nephilim is free?”

“I went down there this morning to let him out into the house only to find out there wasn’t anyone in the room.”

Castiel didn’t answer; he simply vanished. There wasn’t any chance for them to do more than startle and grumble a little at his sudden disappearance before he was back again. “Something, I am not sure what, let him out last night. I cannot tell who or what it was—they had themselves well shielded. The trail is hours old and it disappears right outside of the panic room. There’s no way for me to track it.”

“Well, hell.” Bobby grumbled.

Could things get any better? They had a nephilim on the loose, one that probably hated them by now and would want nothing to do with them, and no idea how he got out of here or who had taken him. They basically had a walking WMD out there and no idea who was in control of it.

“Great.” Dean grumbled. He dropped his head back and let it thunk the wall. “That’s just fucking great.”

What were they going to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here soon I'll put up the next installment in the fledgling verse. It's going to be called "Sanctuary"
> 
> I hope you liked what was in this one and I hope you guys continue to read. I know I could've posted this as one great bit story but it felt more right to break it up into these parts. There'll be one big long one coming up soon though don't worry

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be updating most likely once a week, and I'm aiming for Mondays.
> 
> Don't forget to let me know what you think! Reviews make a writer write faster ;)


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